


imagine being loved by me

by AgentBuzzkill



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: M/M, Masturbation, Pre-Relationship, Sexual Fantasy, writing about fjord jacking it qualifies as self care right
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-08
Updated: 2019-05-08
Packaged: 2020-02-28 05:39:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18750130
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AgentBuzzkill/pseuds/AgentBuzzkill
Summary: Fjord finds himself with a morning alone in their temporary home.Unbidden, his thoughts drift to a certain wizard.





	imagine being loved by me

**Author's Note:**

> Everyone copes with bad days in their own way. My way just happens to involve writing about my favorite characters doing...this.
> 
> Big thanks to Amaronith, who helped me figure out how to end this thing. <3
> 
> Title is from "Talk" by Hozier, because if the title isn't from Hozier did I even write a fanfiction?
> 
> Please enjoy whatever this is.
> 
> NOTE: Fjord's fantasies do involve some light BDSM

Despite having been in Xorhas for quite some time now, it’s still strange to wake up to nothing but darkness outside his window. Fjord rolls over, curling deeper under the covers before he hears someone shuffling around their room. Cracking an eye open, he sees Caleb sitting on the edge of his bed, pulling on his boots.

“This is the latest you’ve slept in so far,” Caleb says, glancing up at Fjord with a wry smile. “Good to see you’re finally getting some rest.”

“Yeah,” Fjord agrees, voice still thick with sleep as he rubs at his eyes. “Think I’m finally startin’ to feel like myself again.”

“Good,” Caleb says as he finishes lacing up his boots. “I’m off to the library,” he adds as he stands and dons his coat. Fjord sits up in bed, stretching as he lets out a big yawn.

“It’s a shoppin’ day, then?” he asks, already considering laying down and going back to sleep. It’d be more fun than wandering around town all day anyway.

“For the others, ja,” Caleb says, busying himself by tidying up his side of the room. He pulls the covers up on his bed, straightens the sheets and pillows, organizes the books he’s borrowed and bought in neat stacks on his desk. “Am I correct in assuming you will not be joining them?”

“You’d be right about that,” Fjord says, laying back down with both hands on the back of his head. “Think I’ll take it easy today. Let me know if you find anything good.”

“I will keep an eye out,” Caleb replies, heading for the door. He opens it, glancing back at Fjord.

“Have a good day, Fjord.”

“You too, Caleb.”

Caleb looks like he wants to say more but instead he turns away, shutting the door behind him as he leaves.

Fjord stares up at the ceiling, listening to the low, muffled din of his companions on the first floor of the mansion. He can’t make out their words but it’s comforting to listen to them anyway. To know they’re there.

And then, suddenly, the voices fade and the front doors of the house slam shut. And all is silent.

He hasn’t been in the mansion by himself yet, and he doesn’t know if he’s inclined to be alone in it for very long. Maybe he should have gone with the others. At least then he wouldn’t have to figure out how to spend a day alone.

And yet…

It’s a fleeting thought at first. An impulse he almost instinctively waves away because he couldn’t do that. He’d get caught. Someone would walk in. The walls were too thin.

And yet…

Nobody is around. He’s tense. He’s been tense for days, for weeks. Ever since they arrived in Xorhas he’s been tense and he’s starting to see why the first bit of rest they’ve gotten in a long time is hitting him particularly hard. He needs to de-stress. To unwind.

And there’s a particular kind of tension. A gnawing, burning need deep in him. It’s been a while since he’s done this. Alone time isn’t very common with this group and while Fjord loves them, a night to himself wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world every once in a while.

He has time now. Plenty of time. Reaching down, he slips off his smallclothes and takes a deep breath.

He’s doing this. Okay.

Closing his eyes, Fjord focuses on his breathing. On sinking into the mattress under him. On the soft, warm weight of the blankets still around his waist.

He hasn’t done this much with someone else, certainly never in a way he especially wanted or liked, never with anyone he held any real care for. It’s hard for him to conjure images. Sensations. He can only imagine what it could really feel like, to be with someone he truly wanted and who truly wanted him in return. He does his best to pretend that someone could want him, that a body could be entwined with his. Straddling him. Leaning down. Pressing their lips to his forehead.

Speaking in a low, accented voice.

It’s not his first time imagining this, but every time he does there’s a fresh rush of need, each as strong as the last. It’s intoxicating, this fantasy. Something deeply impossible that he still craves so badly. Each hit brings him crawling back for more.

_  
_ _\--You look so beautiful, Fjord._

 

_hands on him. all over him. calloused fingertips, he’d felt them before. fjord dreamt of those hands and how warm they would be--how safe they would make him feel. a steady presence, guiding him to pleasure. he smells as he always does. of earth and sweat and metal. fjord breathes in deep._

 

_\--None could hold my attention the way you do._

 

_he isn’t worthy of caleb’s admiration but he basks in it nonetheless._

 

_\--Incredible. Powerful. And mine. All mine._

 

_wrists bound. blindfolded. gagged. helpless under his touch, fjord would trust caleb with anything._

 

He stretches his hands up over his head, holding his wrists above his head. He wonders what they would be bound with.

His own rope, probably. Stark red against dark green flesh. That would look nice.

 

_\--None can hold a candle to you, love. Believe me, they have tried._

 

_he waits as long as caleb wants him to, spread out on display for his lover’s amusement. he wishes he could see caleb--_

 

But he can’t quite get it right. He doesn’t know what that would be like, how Caleb would look with lust in his eyes. How he would sound with desire lacing his voice. Everything is a vague approximation, a fantasy that’s played on the edges of his mind for so long. He rarely has the time to indulge in it, and even when he does it never lasts as long as he’d like it to. It’s never as vivid as he wishes it could be.

He desperately wants to keep his hands above his head. It feels more real that way. But the urge to touch himself is too great, and he needs at least one hand to manage that. Keeping one hand above his head, he trails the other over his neck.

 

_lips pressed to his skin. sucking in marks. claiming him._

 

His hand drifts down his chest, barely skimming across his flesh.

 

_nails barely digging in. teasing the promise of deeper marks._

 

His legs spread instinctively as his hand finally reaches between his legs, but he doesn’t touch just yet.

 

_\--Patience, love. That’s it. It’s a virtue, you know. And I wouldn’t want you to be anything but virtuous for me._

 

He holds off for as long as he can, cock growing harder out of sheer anticipation as he trails over the soft skin of his inner thigh. But he is good. He will wait. He will not disappoint, not now, not when it matters most.

 

_the lightest touch drifting over his inner thigh. up and down. lazily tracing around the base of fjord’s cock._

 

_\--How lovely. I think you’ve earned a bit of relief._

 

He wraps his hand around the base of his cock--

 

_and he fits in caleb’s hand so perfectly, he has to marvel at that--_

 

Giving a slow, teasing stroke--

 

_\--So hard for me already. Good boy._

 

A low moan slips from him, Caleb’s name on the tip of his tongue--

 

_a thumb running over the head, spreading slick precum as caleb continues to stroke him. getting him harder and harder. he’s trying so hard to not thrust up into caleb’s hand. he needs more, but he needs to be good. he needs to be good. this will last if he’s good. caleb will keep wanting him if he’s good--_

 

But he can’t resist. It’s been far too long since he’s done this. His hips stutter, thrusting up to meet the slow strokes of his hand on his cock. He turns his head, burying as much of his face as he can in his pillow as a growl rips through him, rumbling deep in his chest.

 

_caleb’s smiling--_

 

And he can see that in his mind’s eye, at least. The kind of smile Caleb gets when they’ve just won a fight. When he’s found a promising book. When he tells a joke and Fjord is the only one to catch it and laugh. Excited. Conspiratorial. Pleased.

 

_\--That’s it, love, show me how badly you want it._

 

And he wants. Gods, does he want. Fjord’s thrusting into his own hand in earnest, moaning nonsense into his pillow, and he wants. He wants. He wants.

“C-Caleb- Yes… Please… I-I…”

 

_hands on him. all over him. hands and mouth. caressing. kissing. grabbing. touching. granting attention and pleasure and love and he isn’t worthy but it is given anyway. given so sweetly, so carefully, as caleb wrings every noise he can out of him._

 

He isn’t going to last.

 

_he is at the mercy of caleb’s desires and he has never felt safer in his life._

 

It can’t end so soon.

 

_caleb’s hand stroking him. his mouth taking fjord in, taking him deep. fingers, slick and gentle, sliding inside and opening him up._

 

Fjord wants and wants and wants--

 

_\--Be a good boy and come for me, love._

 

And with a strangled cry of Caleb’s name, Fjord does as he’s told.

He thrusts up into his hand, feeling the pulse of his cock in his palm as his release spatters across his stomach. The pleasure thrums through him, racing through his veins, stronger than any power his patron could ever grant him. When had he kicked his sheets down? He can’t remember. Even without the covers over him everything is hot. Too hot. He can hear the racing pulse of his own heart in his head, as if it had moved up from his chest to right between his ears. Behind his eyes. It beats and beats and beats as Fjord comes back to himself, swimming through a haze of pleasure.

For a moment he thinks he can imagine Caleb--

 

_lips pressed against his, his kisses so much better than the few others fjord has had--_

 

And then his eyes open. The dream dissipates.

He’s alone.

Fjord doesn’t know how long he lays there before finally sitting up. His legs and arms feel like jelly. It’s definitely the most relaxed he’s felt in a while, he’ll give it that at least, but even as he washes up and dresses himself he still feels a bit dazed.

The fantasy is still there. Cloying. Sitting on the edge of his mind. A taste in the back of his throat. It happens every time he does this, yet still he does it. It feels too good in the moment to stop and he forgets about the consequences. The loneliness that settles in when it’s over. The impossible desire for something he can’t have.

Pleasure, he can give himself. Intimacy? Not so much.

To keep from dwelling on it, Fjord keeps himself busy. He needs to remove the evidence of his own indiscretions, but that doesn’t mean everyone else’s sheets don’t also need a good washing. His afternoon is spent with the kind of work that occupied most of his time during his first months at sea. It’s familiar, methodical work. Wash and hang the sheets. Sweep the floors. Wipe down the tables. The Bright Queen was gracious enough to give them a home, the least they could do was keep it clean.

The others don’t return until he’s gathering the now-dry sheets and bringing them upstairs in a big heap. They talk amongst themselves, Caduceus calling up a little hello to Fjord as he slips upstairs. It’s comforting, after a long day of silence, to hear the din of voices under his feet as he begins making all of their beds.

When he’s done he gives his face another quick wash, slipping on a fresh shirt and preparing to head downstairs before the door to their room opens. Caleb enters, giving as much of a wave as he can with the books in his arms. On top of the stack is a little box, tied with a little red ribbon.

“Hello Fjord,” he says, hurrying to his desk and setting everything down before glancing at their freshly-made beds. “You’ve been busy today?”

“I found some stuff to do, yeah,” Fjord replies, scratching at the back of his neck. “We’ve been here a couple days now. Figured the place could use a little touch up.”

Caleb smiles and it’s soft. Fond. The kind of smile he usually reserves only for Nott, but with a look in his eyes Fjord doesn’t recognize. There’s a sudden fluttering feeling in Fjord’s stomach and he doesn’t know what to say. Luckily, Caleb seems to.

“I got you something. Picked it up in town.”

He holds the box out to Fjord, who reaches out slowly and takes it. It’s not very big, hopefully Caleb didn’t spend too much money on whatever was inside. It wasn’t as if Fjord deserved--

“Are you...going to open it?”

Fjord realizes he’s been staring at the box.

“Yeah! Yeah,” he says, glancing up at Caleb with a smile that he hopes isn’t as nervous as he feels. He pulls at the red ribbon, letting it fall away before lifting the lid off of the box.

“It isn’t much,” Caleb says quickly as Fjord stares down at the box. “Not magical or anything. It just...reminded me of you. I thought you may like it.”

It’s a stone that’s familiar to Fjord. He’d seen it before, on plenty of beaches. Small and somewhat cloudy, worn by the water and just as blue. Thin silver wire wraps around it, keeping it attached to a long leather cord.

“Sea glass,” he mutters to himself, a smile spreading across is face. “It’s...beautiful, Caleb.”

He looks up at Caleb, who seems relieved. A light pink blush colors his cheeks.   
  
“You really like it?”

“I love it,” Fjord insists, taking the necklace out of the box and holding it out to Caleb. “Could you put it on me?”

Caleb’s cheeks seem to grow pinker as he takes the necklace, walking behind Fjord and draping the necklace around his neck.

“You can tie it tight,” Fjord says. “Don’t reckon I’ll be taking it off a lot.”

“Of course,” Caleb replies. The tips of his fingers skim the back of Fjord’s neck and the smallest shiver travels down his spine. He thinks he hears Caleb breathe in a bit harder at that, but Fjord can’t be sure.

Fjord reaches up, touching the stone that now rests over the center of his chest as Caleb returns to facing him.

"It suits you,” Caleb says softly.

“It does,” Fjord agrees with a grin. “Thank you, Caleb.”

Caleb’s glance shifts from the necklace to Fjord’s face and he stares. His brow is furrowed, as if Fjord were a particularly difficult language for him to translate. It brings a rush of heat to Fjord’s face, being under Caleb’s gaze for this long. To hold his undivided attention.

“The others will wonder where we are,” Caleb says. “We should probably join them.”

“We should,” Fjord agrees, though he doesn’t move a muscle.

There’s a sudden tension between them, thick and hot, and Fjord doesn’t quite know what they’re meant to do next. He opens his mouth, trying to find something to say, and Caleb’s gaze drops to his lips and he bites his own bottom lip, taking the smallest of steps to close the distance between them--

They both jump at a sudden pounding on their door.

“Dinner!” Beau calls to them. “Come get a plate before Jester and Nott eat it all!”

Caleb steps back and looks away. He clears his throat, running a hand through his already-messy hair.

“I’ll, um, see you downstairs then,” he says, turning and leaving the room before Fjord can even reply.

For another moment or two Fjord stands in the middle of their bedroom. He reaches up, placing a hand over the necklace, thinking of the sudden heat that had been in Caleb’s eyes just moments ago.

Is that what Caleb wanting him would look like?

The questions hangs in the back of his mind. Surely it was wishful thinking. Surely Caleb didn’t mean for things to seem like that. Surely he wasn’t about to lean in and close the distance between them, wasn’t about to slot his mouth against Fjord’s and--

Dinner. He just had to get through dinner.

And maybe after that he and Caleb could pick up where they left off.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!
> 
> Comments, kudos, and criticisms are always appreciated. <3


End file.
